The Fella II: Wounded
by Alex Took
Summary: Evan starts his work at Downton in order to be closer to his beloved. But will Thomas let his troubled heart keep him from a new found happiness? Sequel to "The Fella". Thomas/Evan (OC)
1. A New Arrival

**Author's note:** _This story is a sequel to "The Fella" and is set several weeks after. Nearly a year after the season 3 finale. You can find "The Fella" on my author's page and this sequel is best read after the first. Enjoy and please review! _

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**_Thomas_**

I sip my tea. I feel proper anxious. Excited. My mug is shaking in me hand.

"I know you're all thinking it!" I turn my attention to Daisy as she stares at Anna and Ivy, looking embarrassed.

"What are we thinking Daisy?" I ask, eager to know whatever I missed. It's only the ladies, Bates, Alfred and I left at the table.

"Nothing." She mumbles, twisting the towel in her hand. Anna turns as she sits adjacent to me.

"Daisy thinks the new chauffeur is, how did she say it?"

"Faces of movie stars? Or a face made of the stars?" Ivy chimes in.

"I think it was the latter." Hughes adds, chuckling. We're all in decent spirits tonight as Christmas is nearing.

"You seen 'em! He's got an angel face. Even the men can admit that, can't you!" Her eyes skip to us that are left but settle on me. Funny thing is, still don't think she knows what I am. Anna shoots me an amused smirk.

"You better be careful Daisy or I might tell 'em your secret." I say with a smile as I set my cup down.

"You can, honest!" Is all she says before a shout from Patmore drags her from the room.

"Oh, the poor girl. Don't think she'll ever know which men are for her, and which are not." Hughes says with a glance at me before leaving the table.

"You can't blame her." Ivy says, getting up when Daisy shouts for her and Alfred, sounding eerily like Patmore. "But I don't know why she thinks he's going to choose her." Alfred follows her out. Bates and Anna glance at me as I light a cigarette.

"Ever think he might already have someone. My goodness." O'Brien says from behind her tea cup, glancing my way. She's trying hard. I haven't spoken to her much since the incident. I meet her gaze for a moment but just that. I feel the eyes of the room on me even if they aren't. My mind has replayed what Bates said those weeks ago, that those who knew about Evan and I didn't mind. Who were they? Well by that statement I could surely narrow it down, but will they mind now?

Carson makes some sort of unsatisfied grunting sound as he rises. "I certainly hope he does for when he arrives I fear he may need a suit of armor."

He telegramed he'd be here soon, but when?

**_Evan_**

When I tell them I have been hired into Downton the laugh that escapes them would normally leave me smiling too, for it does sound ridiculous. For that's more than a rare thing. But because of the harsh way they've treated me I take my silent leave before they turn around, leaving my apron on the bar counter. I'm lucky I got my month's wages yesterday. This is all happening so fast that my smile can hardly keep up. Not only will I be employed in a position some would actually kill for, but I will be so close to Thomas. Gaining an actual chance at keeping something truly special. I will have less time to paint now with full time work, but I'll have more food in my belly and I think that's a fair enough trade off. Perhaps one day I could let Robert know of my paintings.

Winter is nearing and the cold wind tells it. The clouds hide all shadows as I walk back to my home. Passing not too many others on the street. Until I see a familiar face.

"Mr. Luke?" It is Mr. Townsend himself, my previous employer and family friend of the Crawley's. He looks right happy to see me. "I had heard you were in town." I smile, heading towards him.

"You heard right," I shake his hand as he holds it out to me. "Though not for long, I will begin chauffeuring for the Crawleys in a matter of days." His brow raises, a smile growing below a thick mustache.

"Is that so? Well they're in luck," but a sorrowful look flashes across his face. "Though I don't suppose that sounds quite right, how are they getting on?" I tell him how they seem, to be healing but will never quite be back to normal. As I speak, he prompts me more about them. About the car, the job.

The wind picks up again, I think a storm is coming in. Mr. Townsend holds his hat down and locks my gaze.

"I've just thought of something. Mr Luke, If you could spare a few more moments, I have a proposition for you."

Nearly an hour after bumping into the kind man I am heading back home again. New changes every day it seems. Things always progressing.

Surely Thomas has gotten my telegram by now. We already know the explanation if someone questions our apparent closeness that we'll try to be keeping tight. We are war friends, been through life and death. That creates a bond most there won't understand anyhow. There is a grain of truth, we were stationed near one another for a time. But I always wonder if I had been in the trench with him, if that would have made our bond stronger, or now impossible.

My window is fogged and I wipe away the condensation. Cleaning my favorite view, where a corner of the river can be seen. An occasional family of ducks. I wonder what my new view will be, I smile at the idea of another surprise in my future. All good things coming. All good things. I wipe the rest of the window clean before going to my bedroom.

I finish my packing, careful with my brushes and few paints I have left. A strong wind rattles the wall. I won't miss that. I take a seat on my bed, and my heart tightens when I pick up a small painting. I did not do it, for I wasn't much good at painting when this was done. It was all flowers and trees for me, I certainly couldn't paint my mother. My mother. The only family I ever truly knew and loved. There are more scattered relations in Wales, somewhere. The idea I was born there will never leave my lips once in the Crawley house, thank goodness for being raised here long enough to speak proper.

The thought of her makes me weak as it does strong. But all thoughts of dinner vanish when I think of my father. How we fled from him. The way he smelled of old cow and whiskey. The sound of his fist colliding with my mother. The way he would smile at me, as he did the times I saw his wretched abuse, and say "one day, you'll understand." The only thing I grew to understand was the severity and dreadfulness of his ways. And only fully did so when as a 5 year old I came to my mother one night, tears on her face that was so bruised. She was crying. And she whispered to me to gather my things.

I try not to think of him. Luckily most of my memories begin in England, in the small shack of a home we managed to pay for with all we had brought. As such a small child I didn't realize just how bad off she was, nor just how lucky we were for the kindness of a stranger.

An older upper middle class woman named Angela, and her husband, William, took us in when we could no longer pay the rent. Angela painted, and taught me the art. William had a car and taught me the wheel. I haven't seen them in years, not much since the passing of my mother. But they kept us in their home for years as part of their family. I smile at the memory, at their laughter when we played charades, of my mother's own giggle especially.

The painting in my hand is one of Angela's. Thankfully my life in Wales are only vague memories to me, where as those years with her are bright like poppies, they truly shaped me. Despite the fear of men like my father, the fear that haunts me to this day, the good and kindness of Angela's heart spread to me like a warm blanket. She was and is still, a constant reminder of the good in the world, the good in people, the goodness love can bring.

I've never told anyone any of this.

I think of Thomas. Yes he can be sour, or so I have heard, but cruel is not of his nature. Least not anymore. Nothing like my father, surely. He has a troubled heart, for he has not had as much luck with kindness in his life like I have. But I try to give that to him. I feel my love has kept him from that dark wallowed place and it hopefully always will.

**_Thomas_**

I am finishing up dinner, helping carry the last few things back downstairs when I nearly miss a step and fall on my face. Evan's voice rings out in the kitchen and down the hall. Jimmy is behind me and jokingly accuses me of having finished off the wine before continuing on. Who is Evan talking to? Mrs. Hughes, I think, and a few others. I take a moment, balancing the trays while I steal a glance in the silver and see myself. The only benefit of polishing them so bloody often. My cheeks are flushed. Act natural Thomas,I tell funny about this. Alls they think, or most of them, that he's just a friend. And it's the truth_. _I go down the hall, setting the trays aside before going to kitchen.

There Evan stands. Like a raven in a pool of setting sunlight, looking so kind and pleased to be here. He glances to me and I smile, I have to pull my eyes from his gaze and say a regular hello before keeping on with my work. I hear Hughes chatting with him like he's one of her ducklings, she likes him already. Think they all do. But think I win that one.

I am helping Alfred put away folded tablecloths when I see him walking down the hall, I step out of the linen closet and touch his arm. "Better kitchen than your old one down the street eh?" Evan smiles, bringing my smile out in skipping heartbeats.

"Absolutely. Everyone here is warm as a hearth. See you later then." He tips his hat, and I nod to him, wanting to hug and touch even but his hand, but I keep my arms to myself and return to the folding.

"Won't have a chance with the girls now that he's here." Alfred says through a whine as he shoves the cloth on a shelf. I turn to him.

"Might have better luck than you think," I say and pat his shoulder before finishing up and sidling out. On my way up I hear Bates' cane clicking behind me, I pause, waiting for him to catch up. It's funny the way I've been feeling the past few weeks. Waiting for people than avoiding.

"Evening Mr. Bates." I say to him. He must have just finished up with Robert for the night.

"I met your friend. He's very happy to be here." He smiles and I look away before nodding.

"He is. He's a good worker."

"And a good driver so I hear?" I nod before stepping up to my door. "Thomas," his tone pulls me about to face him. "Let him know Anna, Hughes and I welcome him for who he is." I am quiet for a moment, looking about before meeting his gaze.

"Thank you." And I slip into my room. I undress to my sleeping clothes and lie awake. The knowledge that the faint glow out in the field, the one I can just see through the fogged pane is Evan, keeps me restless through the night; restless with yearning, anticipation, with happiness. But something else too. Something that's humming through me like an idling engine. Fear. I was so pleased of him coming here, so very pleased. And I still am. But as soon as I saw him the humming started, and I feel it's getting worse. Though I'm not quite sure what I'm afraid of. But dreams that night of past broken hearts, of cheating, lies and faces of men I've lost tell me what it is. But I ignore it all, for there's nothing to fear now. That's what I tell myself at least.

The next morning at breakfast above all the chattering I hear footfalls, Evan's. Soft and gentle amongst the noise of a meal but I notice him immediately. Unlike Carson who starts when Evan speaks.

"Mr. Luke, you walk quieter than a mouse." He rises, meeting his gaze.

"Sorry Mr. Carson. I was just wondering, might I join you all for breakfast? Or any meal really. The house I last chauffeured with had me eat alone. But I'd love to get to know you all." He is nervously fiddling with his cuff, but a smile is on his lips. I refrain from belting out an 'of course' and merely glance about the table. Carson grunts as he speaks.

"Our previous chauffeur dined with us occasionally and since he ended up marrying a lady of the house, I would say you eating with us is just fine." Evan smiles quickly before nodding.

Hughes speaks up. "Please, sit. We're eager to know you as well." And it doesn't take more than a few words out of his mouth before nearly everyone is locked onto what he is saying. Taking in each word like a new book, his voice does that. Pulls you in. But not in a bad way, not in a conniving way you see. Charismatic is what he is. Though he's also so much more. Seeing him at our table like so, in a chauffeurs outfit, as one of us, it is so queer. But I can't stop smiling at the prospect, and smile even more knowing I can fight this fear and win it. I know I can because I already am.

At a glance at the clock Carson is the one who ends the conversing between us all and him, the ladies look sure disappointed but Jimmy looks relieved. He would. It's a strange thing, somewhere during the mending of our friendship my heart wandered away from him, and as soon as I met Evan it's like it never knew him at all.

"I'd love to see how an engine works sometime." Ivy says to Evan as she passes, following Daisy out. I scoot in my chair and wander over to him as he's thanking Patmore for the meal.

"You're one mighty popular boy." I say as I pull out a cigarette. Hughes pauses as she passes.

"We know a good man when we see one." She pats his back before speaking with Carson about something with the Servant's ball.

"She speaks the truth." I see him eying the healing bruise on my face from the assault O'Brien nearly set up after finding out about us those weeks ago. And I see words surface in his eyes that he can't say here. He says it through a squeeze of my shoulder, a long look that sends my heart through my veins as I want to hold him. But the eyes of the house pushes me away.

"Hows the cottage working out?" He keeps my eyes in his as he speaks.

"Very well. But it won't seem like a home till I have a visitor."

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_Please review!_


	2. Whispers In The Dark

**_Thomas_**

"Hows the cottage working out?" He keeps my eyes in his as he speaks.

"Very well. But it won't seem like a home till I have a visitor." He says it quiet with a smile that tingles through me before heading down the hall. And I can't help think of how his frame looks so nice in his new uniform, tight across his chest.

"Don't run over anything." I call out with a smirk and he turns about.

"Do my best." He winks. I head off to continue work. There is much talk of Christmas in the house. Of this day they hope will bring cheer to the hurting family. Robert won't stop going on about it, I think the man is trying too hard to mend a leak in a river. Mary has become cruel again. Not always but of what I've heard she's taking her grief out on everybody else.

A few days pass and we've started to decorate for the Holiday this week. It's late afternoon when I'm helping Alfred hang a wreath, we get stuck with the job just cause our height. Once it's hung I'm dusting the needles off my chest when I hear the sound of baby talk. It's not George, Mary's lil one but Sybil's. I turn to see Tom, admiring the decorations with a smile. His daughter in his arms. The sight of her face looking so much like her mum makes my heart heavy.

"So, do we get the approval of her ladyship?" I say with a smile as I meet the little girl's face before looking to Tom.

"What do you think Syby?" He points to bright reds adorning the rich greens, and the lil one's big blue eyes latch onto the way the light plays off the ribbons.

"She's beautiful." I say. Every time I see her I think of the last time I spoke to Sybil. She passed me in the hall, stopping just to ask how I was, her belly was showing. I remember telling her the baby will be proud to have a mum like her. With how I am, I'm lucky the last thing said was kind and true. But that's always how Sybil and I were, how people who I let in get treated. For that type of friendship is true. And as queer of a thing as it is, I've been feeling some sort of friendship with Tom as of late. Maybe not friendship but _something_. He's all right. If Sybil thought high enough of the man. Maybe Tom sees the way I've been looking at his toddler, but he shifts her on his hip and speaks.

"Would you like to hold her?" I pause, glancing to Alfred who looks befuddled by the baby. I nod.

"If you wouldn't mind, yes. Yes I would." He hands her over and the little one wiggles in my arms before I place her on my hip. She looks up at me, and I can't help but chuckle as her curious gaze flicks over me. She giggles when I smile at her, tickling her sides.

"Got the smile of her mother." I say, her little finger wrapped around my own as she grabs my free hand. Tom nods, smiling.

"Could swear she's all her's with that face. Thank goodness she didn't get me ears." I smirk as I give her back a pat when movement catches my eye. A man entering the house with Carson, it is Evan. And though he's speaking with the butler I see his eyes on me and Syby for a moment and he smiles. Tom looks to Evan.

"Were my pants really that puffy?"

"At least you can eat extra cake and no one will notice, eh?" I say and he smiles. I stroke the little one's soft head of hair before handing her back to her father.

"Right. We're off to see the new chauffeur." The words make me stiffen and I don't know why.

"Are you?"

"Thought I'd give him some pointers." I nod.

"Right. Thank you, Tom." I say, though I mean it for getting the chance to hold the little one, perhaps he thinks I mean for helping Evan. Tom looks back, eyes on me for a moment before stepping back to me.

"Sybil talked high of you, Mr. Barrow. She knew people best. Know that I hold you in the same regard." The set of blue eyes, father and daughter, looking identical, are on me as I take a moment to say a quiet thank you.

"And you're wrong, she's got your eyes." He slowly smiles before we nod and he continues on. I fix a crooked wreath before catching up with Alfred whose started decorating a mantel down the hall. I feel lighter from holding that little life in my hands, and knowing perhaps I may yet have another friend. I watch Evan smile at the baby, talking with Tom before they walk out the door.

"Babies. Can't stand the thought of having one." I rock on my toes, smirking.

"Why, you afraid it will come out looking like you?"

"I had 6 younger brothers and sisters. I've seen more diapers than flowers in my day." The thought comes to me of children, the idea I'll never have any. But perhaps seeing Syby through life will satisfy what little desire I have for them.

We finish up the decorating after about an hour, and I'm tying off a ribbon about a window in the library when I look out to see Evan holding Syby, bouncing her like she was his own. Tom smiling and laughing, its clear they're getting on well. Can see why Branson is taking a liking to him more the other way round.

The way Evan is holding Syby is so natural and lovely, a sight that kindles something in my chest.

"She's lovely, isn't she." Robert's voice startles me, I straighten turning about on my heels.

"Yes, she is your lordship." The look in his eyes is distant, though at every meal I see him at he is putting on a summer day upon his worn face.

"I think she would be happy, proud of Tom for taking on what he is." I nod.

"I would say so." He sighs, sipping his drink when he turns to me quick.

"I am so sorry Thomas, I never asked how you were getting on? Your face seems to be healing up nicely."

"That is is my lord."

"Your friend, Mr. Luke. He's quiet the chauffeur for only having done the job 3 months before. Grannie likes him. And I think that should mean quite a lot." I smile as he chuckles.

"He's enjoying himself very much my Lord."

"Good. We're are lucky to have him." He pats my shoulder before giving me a nod and heading off. I look out to see the men and Syby wander off as it starts to rain and I return downstairs.

That night I go up like it's bedtime, wait several minutes, before pulling a coat over my pajamas, slipping my shoes back on and gliding downstairs like a ghost. Carson went to bed nearly an hour ago, and not even Patmore is still up. I unlock the side door and slip out into the night. Knowing this visit will silence whatever fear is left.

It's bloody freezing. I nearly trip on the stairs in the dark, not daring to bring a candle with me. The glow of Evan's cabin though, is enough of a trail, even through thick fog like this. The ground is damp from the earlier rain, and moon is small. It's very dark. I have no shadow and cannot even see my breath that I know is fogging the air around me. A barn cat scampers past as I pass the outbuildings, down the small path that sets the chauffeurs cottage out of the way. Anna and Bates' home isn't far off, now that I think of it. Though if one of them sees me it ain't the worst.

I rub my hands over my arms for warmth as I give a quiet knock on the door. I see a shadow shift and am greeted by a candlelit Evan. He smiles and I get in quick. "Bloody freezing out there." I wander to his small hearth where a gentle fire is crackling.

"This is a nice surprise." Evan says as he pours a hot drink into a mug, handing it to me. My body taking note of his fingers brushing against my hand. I take the glass, and pull his hand into mine, still warm from the hot liquid. I kiss the back of his hand.

"Afraid this is how it's always going to be. But could be worse. Much worse." He nods, slipping my coat, damp from the heavy fog off my back and hangs it by the fire.

"This way no one can catch a whiff of what we're up to. Surprise visits are less risky." I sip the drink, warm tea. Evan smiles as he walks over, his thin pajamas clinging to his fine form.

"Less risky? Oh I dunno, might just catch me in the middle of changing clothes sometime." I say with a smirk and he chuckles. He slips his hands around my waist from behind, pressing his lips to my cheek before resting his head on my shoulder.

"Feels like it's been ages." I say, the warmth, the comfort, the feeling of his embrace makes me at ease. Reminds me how dear he is. How awful it would be if I were to loose him, but something about that sense of calm he gives me makes me think he would be just that easy to loose. But to what I don't know. "I've missed this every second I've been without it." I set my cup down and turn about to face him. Wrapping my arms tight around his back. He doesn't know about all my heartbreaks. The lost loves or none at all. Sure he's had his fair share as well. But the idea of losing him to anything tightens my grip on him all the more. And the longer I hold him, something crawls down my spine, a fear a worry, and it grows with the length of our embrace. I push it away, but its there humming, and making my heartbeat just that bit faster.

He has pulled away to look at my face. "There is no one else my heart would rather choose. I will be with you always, if you'll have me." I answer with a kiss, the first one in weeks. For some reason I have found my eyes clouding but I fight them off. The whole lot of it, the strange anxiety I sense in me, and the idea that what I feel for him could be swiped away like leaves in a strong wind though I know it's not so likely. This has all have brought uninvited tears from my eyes.

"Thomas?" His voice is full of concern but I chase it away with a smile.

"I'm just so lucky to have you." I kiss him again, he takes my hand, guiding me to his room. Which does exist, just barely. Room for a bed and a door. We lay down and I curl up beside him, my head on his chest. His heartbeat like music in my ear. A wind blows against the pane, Evan pulls a blanket over us. He strokes my head, pressing his lips to my forehead.

"Tom is kind." He says after silence. "Gave me much helpful information." I stay quiet. The crackling of the fire wavering into the room. "Do you like Tom?"

"I don't dislike him, at the moment." He must sense the shadows in the tone of my voice. The shadows of how I didn't hate the man, but certainly didn't like him and in no way would ever be his valet. He's one of us no matter what suit he wears. But since Sybil... it's all been different.

"Is it because of where he's at?" I shrug.

"To be honest I don't like many people. But since Sybil... I dunno. Everything has changed. The whole bloody house. Who ever knew such a quietly loud girl could cause such a hurricane. In life and death."

"Were you and Sybil friends?" I think of her spirit. Her kindness.

"Much of a friend as someone like me has. Yes. I spent many hours in the hospital with her. She was kind. She was, brave." I feel him nod, his stubbled chin grazing my cheek.

"She sounds lovely."

"She was." The fire snaps.

"You looked so fit with her child today." I adjust myself so I can look at him. I touch his cheek. He smiles and kisses my hand.

"As did you." He looks out the window, a distant look in his eye. "I always wanted to be a father." I raise my brow. "Till I got older. Realized I was different. That someone like me cannot have a child. Well, without going against my heart and body." His tone is sad. Like a piece of him was torn out at the idea of never having children. And I wonder if this fear could be just that, that he wants something I can never give him.

"Did you ever consider. Settling for that, so you could have a child?" His moments of silence are enough of answer.

"Before the war, yes. But after... as much as I still loved the idea of being a father, sacrificing real love for a fabricated marriage wasn't worth it." He looks down at me. "Not one bit. I was holding out for something like this." The thought of having children has honestly skipped through my mind only a few times in my life. But holding Syby today, and listening to Evan, makes me wonder if men like us miss out on the very purpose of life.

"Well you'll be happy to know two babies are in the house." He smiles.

"I'll be happier to know you're in that house." We kiss and I snuggle closer to him. He pulls the blanket tighter about us and I feel sleep creeping into me. I don't want to worry about waking up before dawn. For that's only a few hours away. Instead I keep myself half awake as I listen to Evan's breathing slow as he slips into sleep. Several wavering hours later I force myself to rise, careful not to wake my dear. I give his head a gentle kiss before pulling the blanket over him, snagging my coat and returning myself to the night. Luckily I'm so tired I hardly notice the cold, but it perks me up enough to remind me of the necessary silence. The door creaks as I open and lock it once more, climbing the stairs before collapsing in my bed. A part of me imagining the warmth of my blanket is Evan's arm still about me.

**_Evan_**

The mattress shifting wakes me, as it is hardly big enough to fit two. But I don't detest his leave and let him go. I shift to look out my window, I see his silhouette for a moment in a flash of moonlight. He seemed very at ease. Like a gentleness flows through him that feels like it's just settling in after years of hiding. I can just make out that painting of my mother on the nightstand before I blow out the candle.

**_Thomas_**

The next week passes with this new normal I'm growing accustomed to; having friendly chat with nearly everyone downstairs, even Carson once or twice, and the long hours have grown short when I know who waits at the end of them. But I don't see him this night. Nor much this day or the day after. Upstairs has had quite a few visitors and doing a bit of visiting as of late, lots of driving to be done. I didn't expect to see him everyday with how busy things get around here but I can't help but hope. Save for dinners. I do see him there, as he eats with us most nights. Though it's usually brief and he gets shuffled between the ladies, no accident on their end. Once again, can't blame 'em.

One morning Lady Grantham is over, would think I might like her if I were an upstairs fella. The sun is warm against my cheeks as I cross the lawn, hands behind my back.

"I did not say he is a poor father, but during this kind of time you can't blame him for what some would call slacking." Her voice is hollowed, the pain from Matthew's death laying heavy on every word. "Some aren't fit for it." Lady Grantham peers over at me under her raised brow, squinting in the sunlight.

"Thank goodness, Thomas. For interrupting before I might actually have to defend Branson." She shoots Mary a glance, whose face is tight with what I know is mourning. I smile slightly, I think both her and I have grown to like the man.

"Everything going well out here," I look down to the crumbs on the soft blue biscuit plate. "Should I send Alfred out for more?"

"My dear, look behind you." I see Alfred coming like a red goose across the lawn and nod.

"Good." I smile. The old woman's eyes sit on me for a moment and she twinkles in her eye.

"You're looking much happier Thomas, if I didn't know better I'd think you'd been switched. But with whom is the question?" She chuckles.

"If you find out let me know," I laugh, "thank you my lady." I bow and turn about to leave. And as I do so the bloody oaf Alfred runs into me, spilling hot tea all over. I manage not to curse but fix his shocked face with a stern look. Well that killed the mood. I get back inside and try to change before someone like Carson sees. I have to borrow a jacket from the closet as I don't got two. As I head towards the back room I pause when I hear voices. I inch about the corner, seeing shadows flicker in that tucked away room, shadows with hushed words. My heart starts when one is Evan. And the other... I hear a baby whimper and my answer comes. What's Branson doing down here?

"It will be our secret. " I hear them laugh softly. I see the shoulder of Branson, he's holding something. Paper? "Oh right, wanted to make sure this got to you. It should help you figure it all out." It is so quiet that I hear the paper wrinkle and Evan take a breath.

"Wonderful, thank you Tom. Can't let this fall into the wrong hands."

"Of course. If you need anything else let me know, please. I'd love to help you work this out. Till then I won't say word. See you tomorrow." Evan nods to him with a thank you before Evan heads my way. I quickly shift to look busy with a wall clock. And what I find the queerest is he doesn't seem to notice me when he leaves, turning down the other end of the hall, taking a glance about before carefully stashing the envelope in his jacket. I wasn't hiding, why was he ignoring me. Or why was he so deep in thought that he went blind.

_Work this out? Fall into the wrong hands?_

The burned feeling on my arms from the tea and the stench isn't helping, but I suddenly feel flipped about. I know that tone, it's the one to use when you're hiding something or a few dozen things. My heart starts to stammer. My chest wound tight like a clock. He's hiding something. Keeping secrets with Branson? Here I was laughing with the man just hours before. I should have known I couldn't trust him. But Evan? My heart chokes me at the thought of his betrayal, lies, secrets. Is it no coincidence I've hardly seen him since he arrived? Evan wouldn't do this to me. Would he?

I saunter out down the hall past the clock, watching Evan leave. His back dark as he is silhouetted by the sunlight of the doorway. I turn about at a baby sound, Branson is now in the hall. Staring. Looking like he may have seen me listening. The Irishman shoots a half smile though his eyes are focused in on something else. He heads upstairs.

It's all I need to confirm he's up to something. Something involving Evan. I feel a surge of urgency cloud my thoughts. That fear is bubbling like a kettle. I will get to the bottom of this tonight. I will talk to Evan. Surely he'll explain it away. And if he doesn't...

Around dinner I slip out, trying to make my way to the garage without being seen. I walk in to find him under the car, I tap on the hood and he crawls out. He smiles. I stomach my own as I look down at him.

"Getting your hands dirty I see." I avoid his eyes as he crawls out.

"Part of the job."

"Is it?" I snap, the night air feeling like icicles in my lungs. I think I see concern in his face for a moment but I look away too quick to be sure.

"Yes," he says with a pause. "The poor old thing is dying. Lucky they made it this far with it." I say nothing, but manage to hold his gaze. And when Evan steps near I make no move towards him. "Is everything all right, Thomas?"

"You tell me." Evan's brow furrows. "I saw you and Branson earlier. In the back closets." Evan sighs with a nod. "What was that letter he gave you?" I pick at my sleeve and fix him with a hard stare. "He sure seemed to know what is was and I'd like to know as well." I lock his dark gaze.

"It's nothing, Thomas. Truly." He squeezes my arm but I don't move. My chest grows tighter.

"Nothing?" I say mockingly. "You sure have a different way of looking at nothing."

"Thomas, I'm not sure what you-"

"Well I'm pretty sure myself. Do tell me Chauffeur, why are you hiding this from me. I don't like secrets and especially don't like them when they're kept." His gaze goes still and brow furrows deeper.

"I'm not hiding anything, you can trust me, Thomas." Though I can tell he's trying to convince me with his tongue, his words sicken me like old soup and suddenly feel as if I am living my life of years past. And Evan is looking more like a stranger. I cock my head and put my hands behind my back.

"Trust is a big word Mr. Luke. You better know how to use it." With that I leave.

I smoke on the walk back, letting everything flood my mind. I should have expected something like this to happen to me. And as awful as the feeling is, like I've been punched in the gut, it's familiar. And I feel myself settling in with all that comes with it, the anxiety, the temper. The walls coming back up like a bloody war zone.

I head back inside to the bustle of dinner preparations.

"Thomas there you are, will you go and see Alfred." Reluctantly I find him in a panicked search.

"What are doing, you're going to break something." I snap, shoving him out of the way. "The second set of dishware is right here, you mutt. It's not your bloody first big dinner, don't act like it is." I give him an extra glare as I leave, and do what I need to do. Following the boys up to dinner, I stand back and watch them serve the Crawley's and their guests. Looks like two right ugly chaps and a lady, maybe new suitors since the rest keep dying.

I sit at the table downstairs, smoking after all is done. Anna and Bates look like they're readying to head home. Alfred stands by the piano, reading a paper. Hughes sits beside Daisy as they pour mugs of tea.

"Thomas, would you like some?" Hughes asks me. The scent makes my nose flinch.

"No. I've had enough tea for one day." I say in Alfred's direction. "After being bathed and burned in it by that red whelp." I feel Hughes shoot me an angry look but I keep my eyes on Alfred.

"I said I was sorry." He whines.

"First footman shouldn't have to say sorry for spilling a pot of tea." I exhale a puff of smoke.

"Thomas," Hughes says with a warning tone. I manage a glance her way and take a puff from my cigarette. "Everyone makes mistakes." I rise, putting out my smoke on the table and make my leave. As I pass the door that opens to the night, I see Evan heading this way, the lantern reflecting on his cheeks. He's close enough to see me through the window, but I don't stop for him and lock the door to my room.

* * *

_**Please review as it encourages me to update! :)** _


	3. A Growing Flame

**_Evan_**

His eyes meet mine of that I'm sure. His quickening of pace, the look in his eye. Tone of his voice that nearly quivered with anxiety. Where is this coming from, seeing me talk to another man? A friend? As the wind gusts around my feet before blowing like an icy hand against my cheek, a worry crawls up my spine about Thomas. Can I stop him from spiraling, and how far will he let this take him. I walk home and go to bed.

The morning is new and smells sweet, like the incoming fall. There is something beautiful about the trees growing bare, the fading flowers, changing of the leaves. I admire the new view from my window before I dress, eat a bit of buttered bread and make a dash of coffee before slipping out into the day. My worry about Thomas pulls on my chest. He's been so kind, so truly happy. But this has so easily set him astray. Even if he saw Tom hand me my letter, that shouldn't worry him. But it worries me that it does. That something so small could be so very big to him. Make him feel that panic I saw in his eye. With panic comes fear masked in bitterness, anger, violence. Though I know Thomas wouldn't harm someone, I can't fight ideas of the worst that could happen from swelling inside me.

He is not a man like my father. He isn't going down that track. He has so much good in him. He's just... and it hits me. Perhaps he is just being himself. I thought I knew him but I didn't.

I pause in my step, giving my head a shake. No, that's not true. I know about who he can be, I just, I worry he'll fall too quickly for me to catch. I couldn't bare to see Thomas change back into his old suit of rusted armor, the one he thinks will protect him but will only break him. I must speak with him as soon as I can.

But I end up talking to Branson first. He's a good man, and becoming a good friend. We discuss the letter and how it's going to happen. I pat him on the shoulder as he is called back to the house for lunch. And as he goes I notice Thomas, watching from the doorway. I wave to him, praying he will come to me. His brow is low and stance tight. He makes no move but to watch me before going back downstairs.

**_Thomas_**

I stand against the wall of the house, watching Syby wander about like a beetle in the garden. Wonder if anyone knows she's out here. Their problem not mine, and she ain't in trouble. She let's out a squeal as she vanishes behind a tree. The smoke from my cigarette falls into the wind, I should probably get back to work. But I don't quite feel like it. Feel like seeing _them_. Those hags and swines I gotta wake up to everyday. My mind keeps wandering to Evan but I smash it with a fly. I cannot bare to think of him. He disgusts me. And that's the worst bit of it. But I can't think long on it, I can't if I want to get through the day.

A voice comes up from behind me, echoing in the house, it has an accent. It's Branson. I tilt my head to listen closer, taking a draw from my cigarette when the door bursts open. I give a lazy look to the man, whose eyes are big like a prey animal.

"Syby? Have you just seen her?" I leak the smoke from my lips, letting it blow into him. The gay stuff parts about him as his eyes plead for an answer. He looks a bit annoyed. I gently shake my head.

"No. I haven't." Branson storms past and out, calling for his child. I watch him and smile, he looks like an upside down hound with zero hunting instincts. Till Syby wanders out from a hedge, nearly falling as she totters about. Branson let's out a sigh of relief and flocks to the thing. Oh good for you, you found her. I adjust my stance as he heads back towards me, Syby in his arms. His brow is low and he stops before me. A slight panic is still in his eye.

"She was right there. I find it queer you never saw her."

"You asked if I'd just seen her. It's been a few minutes. You ought to be more specific, Tom." I say his name like it tastes foul and drop my cigarette at his feet. His nostrils flare in silence.

"I thought better of you."

"Funny. I thought the same thing about you." He makes a nasty face and opens the door. "Know who you two are going up against." He pauses, looking from Syby to me, but he knows who I truly means I'm certain. He mutters something under his breath before vanishing inside.

I wait a few minutes before heading to the hen house. Patmore has just sat down a pot of stew. She's paused, taking a moment to catch her breath it seems.

"Thomas, would you mind snatching those carrots." She pants, gesturing to the bag of vegetables sat high on a shelf. "I need to sit for a moment but those needs to get in the soup as quick as a mouse." I look at them then to her, I'm not her servant. I'm no Daisy.

"I do mind actually." I lock her gaze, my head low as I slide my hands back into my gloves. She looks surprised. Someone else sidles into the room but I don't look to see who.

"You do?"

"It's what I said isn't it." I glance over and see it's Bates. His eyes tight on me. "Now if you'll leave me be I have real things to do, not a woman's work."

"My goodness, Thomas." She looks me up and down like I'm foreign. "You keep acting like this again and you're going to loose more than your temper." Her words stab me in a way I didn't expect. I try not to let it show.

"Some things are meant to be lost." I give her one last look and try not to let what looks like disappointment in her face get to me. I shove the carrots off the shelf on my way out, and hear them land like a body.

"Hey." Bates' low voice gravels, pulling me aside in the hall. His hand is tight on my arm. His blue eyes fierce. "She's right you know. No one wants to be around this... _this_ Thomas." I look away from him. He gives my arm a shake. "Be grateful for what you've fought to get. Don't throw it out, or you'll regret it." I yank myself free from his touch.

"I have no regrets, Mr. Bates. Now if you'll excuse me I have work to do." My footfalls echo.

"Don't say we didn't try. Didn't try to help you." I pause, my back to him before continuing on.

**_Evan_**

The smell of the engine overwhelms me as I lean as far in as I can reach. Oil slicking my fingertips like paint. Lucky I have this car to worry about, else I will fret. I get out of it and clean off my hands best as I can when I see a small shadow bounce into the garage. I smile. Syby.

"Well hello there." Her smiling face makes my heart glow like a hearth. I have never seen a more beautiful nor happy child. I can only imagine her mother was the same. Tom comes in, watching his daughter with a careful eye.

"You leave the girl unattended for half a moment and she's gone. She hasn't stopped moving since she started." He chuckles.

"Perhaps we have a sportswoman on your hands." He smiles but something seems off in his look.

"Does Mary still want to go?" He nods, helping Syby up after a small tumble over some tools.

"She does. Any luck?" He gestures to the car.

"Still runs, but I tried what you suggested and the sound hasn't stopped. That letter couldn't have come at a better time." Tom nods, holding Syby to his chest as she plays with his button.

"You are Thomas are decent friends." He says like a question. I keep my face the same and nod.

"That we are." He looks at me as I say it, and still I cannot tell if he knows. Or if he does, I'm thinking he won't say a word. "War mates." He nods.

"Well than you'd know about he gets."

"His bitter side." Tom raises his brow.

"You could all it that. Just gave me a bit of a scare with Syby is all." My heart jumps. And the tool nearly falls from my hand.

"What do you mean?" I rush out, going still. Tom's face alters, perhaps he saw the change on my face.

"Nothing quite happened. Just seems like, I don't know. Just seemed out of character, considering how he's been lately. I haven't seen him this angry in months." Syby begins to fuss at a distant sound. "I should get in, there goes the dressing gong." I shift my weight. I know Tom would tell me if he did anything to harm Syby, and I know Thomas wouldn't do that... I try to shake the thought.

"Right. See you then, hope you can keep up with Syby," He chuckles as the pair walk off, their footsteps the only sound amidst the deep ring of the gong.

Now I can't stop my worries. Tom's words have made me face it. I tried to see him last night and again this afternoon, but he treated me so different. So cold. And it hurts me so. Because he will not tell me what is wrong. Because I don't know how to make him feel better.

I shut the hood of the car. Looking to the darkening sky.

I can't bare the thought of losing Thomas to himself.

* * *

**_Author's note:_ **Thank you for reading! But please review, for if you all don't I don't know whether you're enjoying the story or not. I love to hear what you guys think. Thank you!


	4. Hearts Ablaze

**_Evan_**

The sun beams down on the windshield. Tom, Lady Mary and I have been out the afternoon and the drive back to the house is silent. Even the babies are keeping to themselves, for the moment. There's not many people on the road.

"I never wanted to go in the first place. It was a bad idea." Lady Mary says, her voice sharp. I can't help but speak up, I don't want Tom to take the fall. I clear my throat and speak loud for my voice to travel above the rattling on the car.

"It was my idea, my lady. I thought it might help." I lick my lips. "I'm sorry." I tap my finger on the wheel. Her brow arches as she looks at me.

"I should have known. Chauffeurs often have bad ideas."

"For God's sake Mary," I can tell by his tone and the speed of his words that Tom has been biting his tongue. "Do you think I wanted to? See where she and him... we can't avoid it forever. Maybe you won't feel it now, but later I think you will."

"Standing on the earth above my dead husband will never do any good." Her raised voice makes George to wail, Syby begins to fuss as well.

"It's been a year, nearly, Lady Mary." Mary is silent though Tom's words are heavy. There is quiet for a moment, before I hear George begin to fuss, than scream.

"Tom! Get a hold of your child!" Mary shouts, I look back to see Syby with a fist full of George's hair.

"Syby," he snaps, gently untangling his daughter's hand from George's. The boy starts wailing.

"You were never made to be a father. You're no good with children." She says it like a gunshot. I glance to see Tom, holding back words as he tightens his grip on Syby.

"And you are? This is the first time in weeks I've seen you hold him like he's yours."

"That is not true." Her voice quivers with fear and anger.

"He reminds you of Mathew, I understand. But you have to learn to face it. Or you'll ruin his life as with your own." I'm lucky the lack of traffic has us already back at the house. Carson appears and Mary vanishes with him. I turn off the engine, whose groaning tells its life is coming short. I can hear Tom hushing Syby.

"I'm sorry." He says after some silence. I turn about.

"Don't be sorry for the truth." Tom nods at me without a smile.

"You can pull in, I'd rather come in the back anyway."

**_Thomas_**

I see Evan's car pull up. Mary gets out. I see someone else's silhouette inside, it's Branson. But he doesn't get out. The car continues to the garage. I clench my jaw. Bloody hell.

**_Evan_**

The car feels like it barely makes it to the garage when we get out and walk back to the drive way to avoid the stench and exhaust. He apologizes again, asking if I thought he was too bold, and begins telling me about Sybil. More than I think he meant to, tells me that it's been a year so everyone is a bit off their seat. I remember Thomas saying he was friends with Sybil. And I wonder if I have found a cause for all this. As Branson leaves, I notice another figure nearby. Thomas. He begins heading over and I move back into the garage.

"Looks like you've found yourself a new friend." He says as he follows me in. "Accomplice whatever you'd like to call it." Thomas stamps out his cigarette, dust clouding the air with the ash.

"Accomplice? Since when is chauffeuring illegal?" He avoids my gaze. "Thomas," I reach out and hold his arms. I feel him tense, and for a moment he feels like he may fall into mine before he yanks out of my grip. "What is this all about. One moment you were fine. We were, we were wonderful." I swallow and feel his eyes leave me.

"Don't lie to me Evan. Don't you dare lie to me."

"Thomas, I would never."

"Then never just happened." I sigh.

"I"m not lying about anything, Thomas. You're over reacting." I say tensely. "If this is still about the letter he gave me, that was about the car. Nothing important." His eyes are so far and voice hurt.

"Is that so? Than why didn't you tell me that in the first place."

"Because as I said, it is nothing important."

"Somehow I don't believe that. All this sneaking." He shakes his head. And though his words sound odd, so childish to me, I can tell he believes them in full.

"Thomas, please." I grab his hand and am surprised when he doesn't pull it away. "Don't be like this. Don't change."

After a moment, I feel his hand shaking, he let's out quick and in a tone I feel is hiding tears, "If you don't tell me, don't think I won't find out myself," and tears his hand away. Turning his back on me, his pace quick, before stopping without face me. "And the only thing that's changed is you." He leaves.

**_Thomas_**

I want so badly to trust him. To fall into his arms. But I cannot. He is lying about something. He may seem the same. Seem like he was before. Seem like the man I love. But he's so fast before my eyes becoming a man I used to love, ones from my past, ones who have broken me. And I won't let him have his turn.

I've spent some of the day to myself. I think it's getting Carson riled up but what doesn't do that. Bates and Patmore are seeming to give me a stink eye every time I'm about. As if they know what is going on. I've been thinking of Evan too much through the day, and even Branson now. To think we could ever be friends. I'll even call myself a fool on that one.

The room is empty. I heard Patmore in the kitchen but Anna and Bates have already gone home. Everyone else is busy doing other things or are in bed. Except for me. I sit at the table, knocking over and re-stacking a deck of cards over and over again. I hear quiet voices in Hughes' sitting room. I smell heat and I noticed the stove was left on. The blasted woman needs brain surgery now too I suppose. Though I see a freshly made pot of tea and realize it was most likely Alfred who did it. He always has his tea before bed. That one needs brain surgery too.

I pull out a cigarette and go to lite it when the patter of small feet echoes in the room. I smile when I see Syby wander about the corner.

"Hey you," I say, not hearing Branson right behind her. Figures. She looks up at me and pauses, balancing her self like a wobbly board. I put my cigarette down and hold out my hand towards her. "Are you escaping?" I say with a smile, and the one she returns makes me feel warmer than I have felt in days. She wanders up to my hand and looks at it carefully, I reach out and touch her soft head. And she startles me for when my hand meets her hair she lets out a gleeful squeal and takes off in that drunken baby run. She begins exploring, patting the counters, the walls, the sink pipes... that's when I see where she's headed, the stove. I jump up just as her little hand is about to touch the burning metal. She's in my arms, screaming, her fingers just brushing the thing before I snatch her up.

"Hey!" Comes a furious shout from the doorway. "What did you do to her!" It is Branson, barreling at me like a hog. "Syby, what happened!" The baby wails louder at his shout.

"I don't think she's going to answer." I snap as he yanks the girl from my arms, a spot of cold grows on my chest from where she had just been. He's steaming like a kettle and eyes are locked on mine as Syby wails.

"What did you do her!" He bellows, giving me a one handed shove. "If you hurt her... I swear you'll never step foot in this house again." How dare he think I would hurt a child. Sybil's child. I feel my anger swelling up like a burn.

"Hurt her? How dare you say such a foul thing!" I bark. Branson looks from his crying daughter to me, gripped her hand in his.

"The only foul thing in this house is you!"

"Me? I don't think the Crawleys would be so fond of what you and Evan are up to."

"What?" A look of disgust rises on Tom's face, he sets Syby down in a chair. "I think you should be the one worried about the Crawley's knowing what you and Evan are up to." His words set me off balance with fear and it comes out in my fist as I grab a hold of his jacket.

"Don't you dare say a thing." I say in a whispered snarl.

"You hurt my child, Mr. Barrow and I'll be saying more than one thing." I shove him hard and he trips over a chair, nearly barreling into Evan and Mrs. Hughes who look panicked as the hurry into the room. Hughes goes straight for Syby.

"Thomas, stop!" Evan shouts, running between us.

"Don't either of you leave this spot, I'm taking her upstairs." Hughes disappears with Syby and Branson looks pained.

"Wonderful, now they'll kick me out of the house when you're the one hurting my child!" I see Evan whip his head to Tom at that. I flatten my vest.

"Saved her from burning her hand off! And you're welcome."

"Didn't look like that to me!" He says. I wipe my face on my sleeve.

"Than your thick and blind." I look to Evan. "Here to rescue Branson?" Evan gives me a heavy stare I've never seen before. "After all your sneaking and plotting. Or was this all part of it. First blackmail me with that letter you gave him, then get me fired?" The look of what seems to be disbelief on their faces makes me stiffen. As if I'm speaking another tongue.

"Blackmail?" Branson looks about the room, baffled. "That letter was about car parts!" Branson shouts. I would have thought that his words were part of their lie, that's why their stories matched. But the look on their faces, the mess inside me, is telling me he's right. Evan steps up to me. His gentle voice calm.

"What's gotten into you?" For some reason I feel tears welling up and that makes me even angrier.

"What's gotten into me? You can't listen to him. He shoved me first and I did not hurt the child!" I shout. "I would never hurt Sybil's child." Branson stares, nostrils flaring, hair a mess.

"If she were here today..." he lets a tear fall down his flushed cheeks. "She would be disappointed in you. Like you should be in yourself." I want to scream at him, do anything, but his words hit me like a fist in the gut. He turns to Evan and says, "don't waste your time. He'll never change," before leaving the room. It's in the silence that I notice Patmore watching from the kitchen. I look to find Evan through my blurring gaze but he's gone.

I move to leave but I can't, instead I find myself collapsed in a chair, head on the table. The idea of anyone seeing me like this can't bother me. I've never felt so thick. So foolish. So awful. I've ruined all that was good over something so false.

I sit like this for a long while, before I hear something heavy sat down in front of me. It's Patmore, leaving a mug of tea.

"Drink it, it can't hurt you anymore that than it sounds you've hurt yourself." The honesty in her raspy voice makes me listen and take a sip.

I slip out a "thank you." I drink nearly the whole thing before I ask who was listening.

"No one else is up but me and Hughes."

"I hear my name?" Hughes walks in, hands tight across her chest.

"Mrs. Hughes I-" I begin but she waves me off.

"Mr. Branson tells me an argument got out of hand." Her brow asks it like a question.

"You could say that."

"An argument about Sybil?" She says it like it is what Branson has told, or what she is deciding is the truth, so I nod. "It's late. And everyone's emotions are running high at this time of the year. I won't say a thing to Carson if you keep this to yourselves next time. Without getting us and a certain chauffeur involved." She folds her hands across her chest. "Who might I add looked the most wounded by the scene." She glances to the door he left from.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes." She's quiet before saying her goodnights and giving me one last look on her leave. If she knows about Evan and I, that look is one of shame. And it makes my stomach drop. Patmore raises her brow, taping her round fingers on the old wood.

"Well? Get off your sorry behind and fix this." She nearly steals the mug right from my hand and I rise, leaving the table and heading into the night.

I circle the house once, letting my thoughts untangle into words that won't come. I find myself beginning to cry, at my own stupidity, my paranoia. There's this feeling of being torn and I fall against a wall like the movement is out of my control. My heart hurts, it actually hurts as I curl into myself. I've ruined it all. The one good thing I thought I could keep.

* * *

**_Please, please review as we're getting near the end of the story, I've received non yet so even just one would be great! Thank you!_**


	5. Healing

**_Evan_**

The paint crumbles between my fingers, standing my fingertips blue. I set the dried brush down, flakes of dried paint dusting the tabletop. I would perhaps drink a shot of whiskey if I had any, but I like tea better anyway. The liquid is hot against my lips. I believe him that he did not harm the baby. That much I know. But the anger, hurt in his eyes as he shouted. As he shoved Tom across the room. I can't help but panic as memories of my father surface like leaves in a stream.

I feel scared as I sit alone in this suddenly ghostly feeling cottage. Scared because I don't know what Thomas will do. If he does not come, all of this may be beyond repair.

The clock rings 12. And at the same time there's a nearly inaudible knock at the door.

**_Thomas_**

"Evan." I say when there is no answer. I move to knock again when it opens. His face is heavy and he lets me in. I close the door behind me. We are silent for several moments, I stand stiff by the doorway until he pours a second cup of tea. I take the invitation to sit and pull up a chair beside him.

"I've come to say I'm sorry." I manage to get out, meeting his gaze.

"Did you hurt Syby." The question makes my insides melt with fire, my body go limp with sorrow. I force my eyes to meet his that seem to quiver.

"I would never. You know that, Evan. Please tell me you know that."

**_Evan_**

I know in my heart his words are true as they come from his lips. When he repeats them, I find myself nodding. Something settling within me.

"My father was... not a good person. Ruthless... I just can't shake him from my head lately. And I know... I know you wouldn't be like him," I say it like a question and suddenly feel vulnerable. He grabs my hand tight.

"You know right." He squeezes it with each sentence. "I wouldn't. Not ever."

I feel my fear melting away, though I knew Thomas would never be so cruel, it takes his words to finally scare away thoughts of my father that haven't been around for ages. I nod, letting out a sigh.

"I know." There is some silence, I sip my tea. My mind comes back to Thomas, of his wounds. It comes back to the honest betrayal I saw in his eyes. And I know though he has hurt me with his doubt and distrust, but I remember that he is the most wounded one in the room. For Thomas' fears are like fresh wounds compared to mine. One's I feel run deeper. And a flush of needing to protect runs through me.

**_Thomas_**

"Look, Evan. I don't expect anything else, not even your acceptance but I had to say I'm sorry." I say after some silence. Evan shakes his head, running a hand across his face.

"Thomas, please. Yes I am angry but... I just don't understand. You nearly lost your job tonight, don't you care about that? Don't you care about everything that goes with it... care about losing me?" I fiddle with my sleeve, and slowly look to him.

"I thought I already had." He sighs.

"Tom gave me the letter because he knew what it was about. We're trying to get a new car for the Crawleys, and the Townsends, whom I used to work for have a fairly new car that they would like to give to us. But it needs a new part, with the help of Tom I can make it happen." He lets out a long sigh through his nose. "I thought they could use a good surprise." It's all clear as summer before my eyes and my stupidity is making my cheeks flush with shame.

"Why couldn't you have just told me that from the start." I say. He leans closer.

"Why couldn't you have just trusted me." He says like a statement. Flat and stern, but his eyes flutter with concern as he meets my own.

"I don't know." I say quietly.

"No one is blackmailing you, Thomas. And it's awful that you think Tom and I would." The silence between us is broken by a snap of the fire. I take in a steady breath.

"Some people are used to kindness, they expect that. Others are used to cruelty." My voice trails off.

"I despise whoever did this to you." I look up at that. "Hurt you so deeply, that you feel any other fella would do the same. That _I_, would do the same."

"I haven't exactly made the kindest of friends throughout my life. I've been blackmailed, cheated, made a fool by more people than have lend a hand or a roof over my head. And I know it's not just their fault, it's me. Me for ending up with them. And I don't know why I do it." His hand squeezes my leg.

"People follow patterns. You fell into a bad one." I pat his hand. "You know I would never do such a thing. I know you do." I nod and several tears escape.

"I got scared is all. Terrified. I didn't feel it at first. But the longer I knew you, the more scared I became. The more, paranoid you could say." I wipe my face with my sleeve, thinking of him. The one they call the Duke. "I'm scared you'll be like them, like this fella I was with years ago. He did such horrible things. Or maybe I'm like a frightened little boy who thinks you'll up and die," I wipe my cheeks and mutter, "because that's what seems to happen with all the people I get close to." Evan scoots his chair closer to me, and cups my face, kissing my forehead.

"Promise not to let this happen again, and I'll be by your side always. Leave that man you once were behind with all whom have hurt you. Don't go backwards, Thomas. Stay with me, stay as you are." I nod, his fingers are warm against me cheeks.

"Will do, Mr. Luke." We manage a smile and I sit up, we entwine hands.

"And work it out with Tom. I know you can."

**_Evan_**

The morning comes soon as I manage a decent sleep that night. Thomas went home hours ago. I begin work on the car and realize I can use what's left of this one to repair the Townsends. The day is starting off well already. Around noon I hear laughter, I see Lady Mary playing with her son out on the lawn. He giggles as she tosses him gently. Tom nearby, Syby tottering about his feet. As I watch I realize what this past fortnight has been about.

**_Thomas_**

"Mr. Branson." The Irishman turns about, his face is tight but not angry really.

"Might I have a word." Branson glances to Syby, who is wandering towards Mary and he nods, We walk a small ways.

"I know we haven't always been best of friends. But I haven't been treating you right, and you're not a bad person." Branson kicks a rock down a small hillside, pausing.

"I know you didn't hurt Syby. I'm sorry for shoving you. And I shouldn't have said what I did. Change is a hard thing to come by sometimes." His eyes fall longingly on Syby. And my thoughts as I'm sure his go to Sybil.

"I'd like to think you're right. Sybil would have been disappointed in me. As I am." He is quiet. "Don't be anymore. She would want us all to keep moving on. Enjoy our lives," a little voice calls out, a flop of brown hair and a flash of pink whipping towards us. "The simple things, like the word Da." He meets Syby in the middle, arms outstretched. And the little thing falls into his arms.

"Mr. Luke you are very good at keeping secrets." Luke smiles at Robert and gestures towards a large blanketed object.

"Well to be fair the secret hasn't been hear all too long." Edith, Mary, Cora, Branson and Robert stand by, Carson and I stand behind. But I make sure to keep a view to see their faces at Evan's hard work. "The car you have is on it's last legs, or wheels I should say. And a mutual friend of ours had something to solve our problems, with a little help from Branson and I."

"Don't give me any credit." He says with a smirk.

"Well at least help me do the honors." Branson smiles and heads over, the gravel crackling below his feet. On the count of three the pair swipe the sheet off the car, revealing a shimmering ocean blue Cadillac.

"Good God, someone pinch me." The men smile and wave the group over who are staring with awe and excitement.

"It's beautiful." Edith says, touching the slick hood.

"It couldn't be... the Towsnends?" Evan nods. "I had always admired this as it sat useless in their garage. How ever did you know?" Robert teases. Branson pipes up.

"It's a chauffeur thing." They share a laugh and I feel such joy for the pride on Evan's face.

"When I was employed there, I never forgot the conversation I overheard with you and Sir Townsend about the car. How much you admired it. I hope it wasn't too bold, but I thought you all could do with a good surprise." Robert takes in a quick breath.

"You couldn't be more right." Evan looks surprised as Robert pulls him into an embrace, than Branson. Who he asks if would like to do the honors of taking them for a spin after Evan declined, who I'm sure was hoping Branson would not. And he doesn't. With several waves and much laughter the car fades into the distance. I look to Carson and he is smiling, before he heads back inside, reminding me there is work to do on his way out.

Evan and I walk silently across the lawn, towards the garage. Once inside I chuckle, patting him on the back.

"I realized what this has all been about, with Tom, Mary, the family, and you... us." His voice is soft but still creates a small echo in the room. His raven eyes meet mine. "Healing. And I'd like to hope I was able to aid them in that process in one way or another." I feel so proud to know him, I pull him into a deep hug. Rubbing his back.

"You're a right good chap you know that. You've done more good for the people in this house in one month than anyone else could do in a year." He smiles and wraps his arms about me. "You've certainly done me more good than anyone I've ever met Mr. Luke."

"I'm no saint. I'm a change is all I am."

"Change isn't just an all. Change is everything, as I've learned." He pulls away, giving my forehead a kiss before breaking apart.

"Well I got tables to set," I say with mock joy. He smirks.

"Tea, my place, midnight?" I can't help but let out a laugh that was probably too loud to be safe.

"Don't think any Englishman has ever said that but yes, I'll be there." He winks and gives me a smile as I walk backwards towards the driveway and into the afternoon sun that feels as warm as I do on the inside.

As I'm nearing the house, I hear another laugh. Not Evan, it is a child's. And I am tickled when I see Syby, smile as big as the moon, looking just a tad mischievous. Standing in the tall grasses, a fair distance from the home. Garbed in soft orange, and a thick blue wool sweater that is nearly swallowing her. The girl's nurse no where in sight. "What are you up to?" Her grin is contagious. When she takes a few steps forward, she let's out a squeal. Pausing just before me. "You're just a strong and brave little lady aren't you? Out here on your own. Just like your mother." I hold out a hand and to my surprise she takes it. If I didn't know better, I'd say she likes me. It's then that I see the nurse coming around the bend, and I wave to her we walk. I nearly have to crawl to stay linked with her, but I don't mind one bit. The wind tosses her curls, her knees just above the tickling grasses. The little precious' hand stays in mine, holding tight the whole walk back home.

And I get the feeling Evan is watching, wearing a smile.

* * *

_**Author's note:**__Thank you to everyone who read this! As this is the end of this story, if you have been reading all along, please review! If I am to write another at some point I would love to hear your thoughts. It means a lot to me! Thank you again! _


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